


a pilot and his copilot

by Apprehended (SinsAndTriggers), SinsAndTriggers



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: AUs, Angst, Death, Fluff, Fun Dead, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Paultryk, Smut, Soulmate AU, otp prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-01 04:38:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinsAndTriggers/pseuds/Apprehended, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinsAndTriggers/pseuds/SinsAndTriggers
Summary: Various oneshot stories for Paultryk - based on OTP promptsI do not write about the real-life versions of these characters. The writings of this work are purely fictional, and do not represent the real people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _" Au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate._   
>  _Additionally, when your soulmate dies, the world goes back to black and white. "_

Just like everyone else who hadn't met their soulmate, his world was always in black and white, grays shading and differentiating everything around him. He'd lived in that monochrome world for so long, he'd even begun thinking that perhaps he wasn't ever going to find them. 

Well, until the day he met the copilot.

 

He was in the Red Leader's office, standing in front of his desk. He'd been informed that he had been assigned a copilot. Honestly, he couldn't help but wonder if Tord had found his soulmate yet; he wondered if Tord could see the world in color. 

Not like it mattered, nor was it his business. 

He didn't ask. 

"Your copilot's name is Paul ter Voorde." Tord's voice cut through his thoughts. Patryk nodded, straightening himself out further. With a nod of his own, the leader turned his single emerald eye to the door, calling out a simple command. "Come in."

A brown pair of eyes slid to the door as well, meeting those of the shorter, broader man. The moment their eyes met, the world flooded with color. It made his head swirl, and he had to blink his eyes a couple times as the grey was replaced with hues of red, blue, black and brown, more color than he thought was possible.

It was beautiful, breathtaking.

Did Paul see it too?

"Patryk Dudulewicz, this is your copilot, Paul ter Voorde." Tord's voice once again brought him back to reality. The two men nodded at each other, and Paul offered a hand in greeting in which Patryk certainly took, and shook. He'd speak, but the Red Leader gave him no time. "You two can get to know each other better once you get to your room. Dudul, he's moving in with you." It was customary for pilot-copilot pairs to be roomed together, after all. 

Pat nodded at the general, letting go of Paul's hand. The latter of the two stood next to his pilot, his gaze on his leader just like Pat. He smelled of cigarettes, though he didn't have one at that moment. The taller immediately noted that. 

"You two will start training together tomorrow." So far, each specified job class trained differently. The pilots were trained with pilots, copilots with copilots, medics with medics, specialized gunmen with that class, so on and so forth. It was only when a pilot-copilot duo was chosen that they trained together.

"Yes, sir." The response was almost spoken at the same time, though that never really happens besides in fantasy. The general nodded once before dismissing them with a wave of his hand. "Dudulewicz, show him to your room. You have the rest of the day off." He was feeling generous today, in which Pat was immensely grateful.

 

The two proved to be a fairly good team; Patryk crashed less often and Paul seemed to be breaking out of that shell of his. 

Pat never talked about seeing colors. He was scared to have the ter Voorde tell him that he didn't see them, or that he'd been living in a world of color long before he'd met the pilot he'd been partnered with. But the truth was, Paul had seen them too, the moment he'd seen Patryk- his soulmate. He was sure of it. He just couldn't bring it up, scared he was wrong.

 

The first time they kissed was mostly accidental. They'd been in the plane, returning from a flight they'd been on. The silence that had settled upon them was a strange mix of comfortable and awkward. Words died in both of the duo's throats as their gazes shied from each other. Finally the silence was broken with a soft statement from Paul.

"Smooth flight, Dudul." They still didn't use first names all that often. They were partners, roommates, but that was pretty much it. Though, they both wanted more. They just couldn't bring it up to the other.

The comment brought a smile to the pilot's face. He turned his gaze to the shorter, broader man, his facial features soft. The look in his eyes always seemed to soften when looking at Paul, even if the shorter man didn't notice. Paul, on the other hand, was much more guarded with how he felt; it was near impossible to tell what he was thinking at any given moment.

"Thank you," He replied, he stopped himself from addressing Paul by his first name. After all, he'd been addressed by his last name. The copilot merely nodded, looking off to the side. "Well- I suppose I better be going." Paul said. He has paperwork that Tord asked him to complete when done with the flight. He didn't necessarily want to go, though.

Not many people hung around the planes if they didn't need to. So essentially, they were alone together. They at least had a bit of privacy. Perhaps that's what encouraged Pat to take a small breath, then spoke a tad louder than he had been just before. "Wait, Paul. I have something I need to ah- ask you." The ter Voorde looked up at Patryk expectantly, not making a sound in protest or interruption, nor making a move to leave.

And that's when he lost his nerve to ask the question that had crawled into the back of his throat, it was almost as if it were clutching to his uvula- not exactly a pleasant thought, in any form of the word. Instead, his body reacted almost on instinct, his hands came up to hold onto Paul's shoulders as the taller male leaned down and brushed their lips together. 

It wasn't necessarily a 'kiss' by any normal standards, but between the two of them, sparks seemed to fly. The world's colors seemed to get crisper, clearer; almost like they had a new freshness to them as the soulmates kissed.

Patryk pulled away moments later, his face dusted with a rather attractive red to his cheeks. It complimented his chocolatey eyes, Paul couldn't help but think. Now, the ter Voorde was also blushing, though it was much more subtle on his own features. Of course, Pat noticed. He rather liked the sight of Paul blushing.

There was once again a silence for a few moments as Patryk's eyes shied from his partner once again. He opened his mouth to speak- probably to apologize for the sudden intimacy which, he thought, was probably uncalled for- but suddenly he was being pulled back down. He closed his mouth instinctively before he once again felt a pair of lips on his own, though this one seemed to be much more intense than what he'd done. It seemed almost needy, or perhaps desperate. Desperate to feel that feeling again, of kissing one's soulmate.

Neither could deny that feeling. They inexplicably knew what it meant- it was an instinct bred into them by their parents, and throughout the course of human existence. The feeling was intoxicating, like they needed it but didn't know they did. And now that they had it, they couldn't get enough. It seemed like their lips were made for each other- and perhaps they were. They were a pair that didn't realize how well they fit together until now, even if one was taller and had to bend down slightly. It didn't matter to them, not now.

When they pulled away for a breath, they were both smiling; Paul had the biggest smile Patryk had seen on him since they met. They didn't need to speak- they merely took each other's hand, Patryk's left one in Paul's right, and got off the plane, returning to their room together. Anyone passing in the hallways could figure out what happened- and not a soul said anything against the two.

Neither had to say what was on their mind, they both knew what the other was thinking- _'I love you.'_

 

Their first time had been, for lack of a better word, magical. 

They'd had the day off from duties from the army. Of course, the two spent the day alone with each other. They'd never gotten too frisky with each other before; at most they snuck a few touches here and there as they kissed, as long as they were alone. 

The two were on their bed, side by side as their lips locked. Their kisses were intoxicating- they were like a tonic to the poison of being separated. But tonight was different; there was an almost burning need in their normally passive, sweet kiss. They couldn't help but let their hands roam; Patryk's hands found themselves wrapped around his lover's neck, one buried in the dark brown hair of his lover. Paul's had found home sliding up into the red turtleneck that hid his pilot's body from his lidded gaze.

The taller of the two arched into his lover's touch, his body heating up at the touch. It was a strange thing, feeling your soulmate's hands on your body. It was inexplicable, the feeling that filled you when both you and your soulmate were ready. It was like a fire kindled inside them, edging the two of them on. 

It was a desire, a want, a need.

Paul swiped his tongue over his lover's lip, and almost instantly Pat opened his mouth. He sucked on the other's tongue when it slid into his mouth, claiming it as his territory. His territory, and it'll only be his, just as Patryk Dudulewicz was his and his alone. They both knew it.

They fell back together, the copilot on top of the other man. He broke off their kiss to instead tug Patryk's turtleneck upward. He removed it from his lover's body, tossing it aside and casting his eyes over the pale skin in front of him. He took in every inch of the canvas in front of him, a beauty to his eyes. Patryk had an attractive blush on his cheeks, and heat practically radiated off him in flustered waves.

There was no doubt either of them _weren't_ enjoying this, nor that they didn't want this. They both knew what the other wanted, without having to ask. Still, Paul's eyes asked for him, and Pat nodded slightly. He wanted this, he wanted Paul.

The shorter of the two trailed kisses down Patryk's chest, oh so careful with him as if he were glass. This, of course, Pat was immensely grateful for.

As much as they felt like they needed this, needed each other, it wan't lust. Not between soulmates.

The rest of the night was a fluid memory, not a single blur to it for either of them. They danced to their own soft tempo, as they always did, bodies blending together perfectly. Perfect; yes, it was perfect. Everything was perfect, from the way they kissed to the way they held each other. The way their bodies moved in sync, the feelings the intimacy they shared in that bed, it was perfect, to both of them. Soft promises were made, and many a 'I love you's were exchanged. Lips trailed bodies, then connected with the unspoken words between them. They didn't need to be voiced.

Everything was perfect to them.

 _They_ were perfect.

That night, they fell asleep, exhausted, with arms and legs tangled around each others' limbs. It was like they were protecting each other from anything and everything that could hurt them. And they would, both swore to protect the other with their life.

 

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want any of this, he didn't want to be in this room. He wanted to rewind time. 

All he knew, was Paul was _not_ a traitor. He would have told Patryk anything, they always took solace in each other. There was an unbreakable trust between them. This- this did _not_ change that. 

Patryk looked down at the revolver in his hand- Paul's revolver. The weapon used in an attempt on Tord's life. 

_This isn't happening._

It was a blur.

First, Tord spitting venomous words at Paul, telling the _loyal_ pilot what happened. What his lover did. Tord had bandages around his shoulder, red with blood that had escaped the bullet wound.

Next came protesting, from himself. How he could never kill Paul, how he wasn't a traitor, nor was he himself. Then, Paul yelling, crying, begging him to shoot, to keep him from being killed by Tord, who had by that point drawn his own revolver, and had it cocked and aimed at Patryk's head. Pat couldn't seem to care.

Then, those words.

_"He had nothing to do with this."_

_"I only used him."_

_"He was . . . a perfect human shield."_

Hearing those words let tears escape him finally, and he reacted. It was the soldier, going on instinct. Be the good little soldier. 

He pulled the trigger, the barrel of his _~~lover's~~_ copilot's weapon aimed at his chest, just next to where his heart should be.

With the _crack_ of the gun, and Paul's last breath, the world for Patryk Dudulewicz was once again plunged into monotone.

In the colorless world he couldn't see anything besides a red on his black and white partner, a symbol- reminder- of what he'd done.

He dropped to his knees, the other man's gun clattering to the floor as he let himself break down, not one soldier going to comfort him.

Tord only glared in silence before turning and walking out, his soldiers following, leaving the mourning man alone to cry over his soulmate's body in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _" Imagine your OTP had been dating for a few months, and are 19-25 years old. One day they go out for coffee with a friend and Person A is like 'man my legs are so sore' and the friend is just like 'why' and sips their hot chocolate, then A & B look at each other and both blush and the friend spits out their drink and is like 'OH MY GOD U GUYS DID THE FRICKLE FRACKLE'. But as it turns out they went to a huge trampoline gym meant for children and jumped around for three hours. " _

The two men walked hand in hand to the coffee shop they were to meet their childhood friend. Even when they first came out as dating, he'd stuck with them through thick and thin, in which both greatly appreciated. A smile came to the taller of the duo's face as the building came into view; it was a dainty looking place, though one would be surprised as to what could go on in such a clean looking place. It seemed so mellow, it always had.

Even that time Tord had knocked a guy's teeth out. Literally. Patryk had seen a tooth shoot across the floor after the hit landed.

Yeah, the only reason Tord was allowed there again- along with Paul and Patryk, as they had both backed up their companion and even cheered him on while knocking that guy's teeth in- was because he knew the owner, and held a few things over her head.

The red clad male looked up as the bell above the door rang upon the couple's entry. A sharp grin appeared on his face, his lips pulling back to reveal his sharp canines. He raised his hand, waving over the two other men. 

The two immediately walked over, sitting down at the three-person table Tord had taken for them. In his hands was a hot cup filled to near black coffee. He wasn't one for overly sweet things, most of the time. A waitress came over and took Patryk and Paul's orders, then went back to get their drinks. The trio kept up small talk, normal conversation to kill time. 

 

Sipping his coffee, Paul leaned forward slightly in his seat, leaning his right arm on the table. He swallowed, a soft comment passing him without really thinking about it; "My legs are sore." 

Tord looked up at the first of the two, an eyebrow cocking. "Why?" He asked, and his question was met with glances exchanged between his companions. A light tint came to the broader man's cheeks, a more noticeable one on the taller's. The man in the red hoodie's eyes widened, and he damn near spat his coffee out onto the table.

"You two-" he cut himself off, unable to say the words swimming through his head. His two wingmen fucked each other the night before. That was the only thing he could think of, and he certainly wasn't going to say it out loud in the practically deserted cafe. The other two weren't dull, however, and both flushes darkened when they caught onto what he wasn't voicing. Patryk couldn't find his voice to correct him, and Paul was speechless.

There weren't any objections, not yet.

The man in red leaned into the other two, his eyes remaining wide as he spoke in a hushed tone. "Did you?" It wasn't exactly a question, instead more of an expectancy. After all, they've been together for a while, and why else would they be sore? Maybe Tord had too much time on his hands, time that was more often than really healthy preoccupied by hentai.

Finally it was Patryk that broke the awkward silence between the trio.

"Tord-" There was only a slight pause in which the emerald eyed man turned his gaze to Patryk. "We didn't." There was no need to add more to that, to state exactly what it was. A disappointed light flashed through those intense emerald orbs, another silence settling for a few moments.

"Then what did you do?" Now he was really curious, he wanted to know. The other two's blushes both died down, and Paul took the lead this time. "We went to a trampoline house." He explained bluntly. 

Of course. How Tord wasn't expecting something like that, he wasn't sure. And certainly, they wouldn't have told him if they did have sex. He highly doubted that. Shame, really, but that's how they were. Patryk wouldn't tell him, and he doubted Paul would. 

"Ah. I see." He nodded, taking another sip of his coffee. And once more, an awkward silence settled before the trio filled it with small talk. The usual 'how has your day been', 'have any plans', and the like. Plans for upcoming days were made, and a refill round passed before they paid their bill and left to get to the day's activities. 

After all, Tord ran the streets, and he wouldn't waste a day when there was still much to do, and his loyal companions stayed by his side as always.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tumblr post:_
> 
>  
> 
> _""" AU someones probably already done but imagine- Pat turns into a zombie and loses control and bites Paul """_

It wasn't supposed to end up this way. The mission was to contain the zombie outbreak, and they tried. They really did. But sometimes, the world doesn't care for human intentions.

Patryk wasn't sure when it happened. One moment he was fine, then he felt teeth sinking into and ripping through skin. He couldn't suppress the surprised, pained noise coming from him as he jerked away. His shoulder was ripped up pretty badly, and bleeding heavily, but then Paul was there. There was an echo of a gunshot and the creature fell to the ground, dead once more. Pat dropped his gun, the weapon clattering to the floor as his free hand came up to hold the wound. 

Paul was talking, but it was too fast, too hazy. The pilot couldn't make it out over the fuzzy ringing in his ears; it almost sounded like everything was underwater, while it rang. He almost collapsed- he would have, if Paul wasn't there to hold him upright. They moved to cover, Patryk nearly dragging behind. At least the wound was numbing, scarily quickly. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was going to turn into one of those monsters. Even if they could get back to the base before hand, the Red Leader's cure didn't work yet. It couldn't save him. They both knew it.

He didn't know how much time it took for the infection to kick in. His skin was taking on a greenish tint to it, spreading down first his bitten arm, then to his shoulder and chest. His left eye went lame, half lidded and unfocused as it took on a sickly orange-yellow hue. Thinking and focusing were getting harder with each moment. He groaned softly, but whether it was in pain or from the infection running through his veins, he couldn't tell.

 

He jerked away from Paul, his single good eye widening. Fear filled him faster than infection had, his right pupil dilating. What had he _done_? He could taste it. The metallic tang of blood, that is. Paul's blood, to be exact. He pressed himself to the wall behind him, mortification spreading across what of his face hadn't gone dead already from the sickness taking him over. He couldn't find his voice, but what was he really to say?

Paul's right hand had a bite wound on it, one made by Patryk's own teeth. His expression was that of a fearful one, before he could wipe it off his face. Perhaps that hurt Pat the most, seeing that fearful expression and knowing that he was the reason it was there. He didn't remember doing it. He was fighting a losing battle, and Paul is paying the price for it.

The copilot realized what he looked like, a little too late, and wiped it from his face. He covered the wound on his hand, which was already starting to turn the faintest shade of green. He got closer to Pat, who couldn't exactly inch himself away from where he was wedged in their hiding spot. Tears were in the pilot's good eye, and guilt spread on his face. He quickly found his voice mere moments later, a pleading tone wavering from his lips.

"Paul, Paul I'm so sorry-" There was a pause, in which the ter Voorde was going to speak, but the taller of the two beat him to it. "I need you to kill me," he muttered, though there was a solemn dull to his eyes- eye, his infected one showed no emotion at all- showing he wasn't joking. He needed Paul to kill him now, before he fully turned into one of those monsters. Paul immediately shook his head in protest. "Pat, I can't-"

Patryk cut him off. "Look at what I did, and it's not even done! I don't want to hurt you, Paul, please. I need you to kill me now, kill me before I turn into one of those and hurt you, possibly kill you." There was a desperation in his voice, coupled with fear. He couldn't let Paul remember him like one of those monsters. He couldn't let himself harm Paul. He grabbed both of his partner's wrists, his grip surprisingly firm. "I'm not going to make it, we both know that. Kill me while I'm still _human_!"

There was a hesitance. Paul was reluctant, but what Patryk said was true. He knew it, deep down. Patryk wasn't going to survive this. He'd already lost himself once, if his hand was any indication. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill his lover. Right? " _Please_ ," came the desperate whisper of a plead, and it broke his heart. He gave the subtlest nod, his chest tightening. The grip on his wrists loosened, then disappeared entirely. Patryk was smiling sadly, the tears in his right eye falling silently. "Thank you," he whispered. 

Paul reached for the loaded revolver at his side, his face void of emotion. He checked the cylinder, then clicked it back into place. His gaze moved up to his partner, who was slumped against the wall. His stomach seemed to knot, and he leaned in to press his lips to Pat's. Pat kissed back, softly, as Paul raised the gun. He pulled from the kiss only slightly after a few moments of the bittersweet kiss. There was just enough room for him to murmur, "I love you, Patryk." He waited for a reply, which was an immediate _'I love you too, Paul.'_ As soon as those words were spoken, the room echoed milliseconds after the pull of the hairpin trigger. Patryk fell limp against his partner, who had begun crying his own silent tears. 

He pulled Patryk into his arms, gun still in hand. He looked down at the face of the man he was to be wed to, numbness filling him. He was still beautiful, even when he was infected with the mind killing disease that would have turned him against humanity. He let the tears fall as he kissed the pilot's lips once more.

Patryk Dudulewicz was dead, and it was his fault.

He raised the gun to his own head, and closed his eyes. The last words to pass his lips were hushed, barely audible, not that there was anyone to hear them anymore.

_"I love you, Patryk. So much . . . "_

With a cock of the gun, and the pull of the hairpin trigger, Paul fell limp to the ground, his lover in his arms. The gun fell to the floor beside them, masterless and useless.


End file.
